


A Day In The Life

by cdelbridge



Category: johnlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 13,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdelbridge/pseuds/cdelbridge
Summary: I like little glimpses into the boys’ everyday life’s.  We’ll see how this goes.I went on a Red Dwarf binge so Sherlock does as well.
Relationships: Johnlock
Comments: 251
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

Knock, knock. “Sherlock! Are you doing something private or can I come in?” 

What Sherlock Holmes was doing was reclining in their new, extra-long bathtub, enjoying hot water and bubbles. His mind had been going a hundred miles a minute, his sore body not so much and his stress level was high when John had reminded him of the new tub. He’d scoffed but reluctantly agreed to give it a try. John had filled it for him while he’d (again reluctantly) put away his experiment debris. Our detective had then walked into the bathroom, prepared to complain, when the scene hit him. John had filled the tub with hot water and bubbles. The bathroom lights were turned off, the tub was surrounded by lit candles of various sizes and there was a large glass of wine. As the grand touch, one of his favorite pieces of music was softly playing. Feeling the tension in his mind ease slightly, he’d shed his clothes and climbed in. 

The knock sounded again, louder. “Sherlock, are you alright?”

“Yes John! Sorry, come in.” Sherlock watched his toes peep out of the water.

John entered the room and smiled. ”Enjoying the tub?” At his husband’s affirmative nod, John said, “Would you like me to wash your back?”

Sherlock smiled and sat up

John laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes!” Grabbing Sherlock’s sponge, he applied his husband’s favorite bath gel and got to work. Starting at the shoulders, he carefully ran the sponge over the taut muscles. “You need to relax more!” His spouse didn’t acknowledge him with words, it actually sounded like he purred. John laughed and continued washing down his husband’s beautifully muscled back. Rinsing the sponge, he ran water over Sherlock’s back, rinsing off the soap. “Would you like me to wash your hair?”

Sherlock really did purr this time, John grinned as he grabbed Sherlock’s expensive shampoo and squeezed some into his palm. “I never knew how relaxing getting your hair washed could be until you did it for me when I had a headache.” He washed the ringlets, longer now than they usually were, while massaging his husband’s scalp. Rinsing and then applying conditioner, he moved his hands down to Sherlock’s shoulders and rubbed the still tense muscles there.

”I think I melted,” his husband’s deep voice startled him as it had been awhile since he’d done more than moan. Laughing, John rinsed the conditioner out and asked “are you getting out or going to soak a little more?”

”I think I’m going to add some more hot water and soak a bit more.” He turned his head and smiled at John, “you could always join me.”

John stood and started shedding clothes while Sherlock adjusted the water. “I knew we got this tub for some reason. We both fit!” He climbed in and sat in front of Sherlock. “Oh my, this is nice.”

The detective wrapped his long arms around John, hugging him tightly. “Soak for a few and then I’ll wash your back.”

John sipped his wine (he’d subtly brought his glass with him), leaned back and said, “I love this tub.”


	2. “I Have No Pants!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock runs out of pants!

“Sherlock! Wake up! We have a big case. Looks to be an eight at least. I’ll text you directions.” Lestrade hung up.

“I’m awake. I’m awake.” Sherlock said to no one as he rolled out of bed. “John!” No answer. A quick look at the clock revealed that his spouse was probably at work. Just to be sure, he yelled again. “John!” Still no answer.

In the kitchen, Sherlock grabbed coffee because it was already made and hurried to get dressed (no need for a morning shower as he’d taken one before bed but after the amazing, messy sex). Opening up a dresser drawer while sipping his coffee, his hand found nothing. Moving his hand around didn’t seem to help. He put his cup down and checked to make sure he had the right drawer. His pants drawer was empty.

Now it’s not as if our boy hasn’t gone commando before but it works better with certain trousers and at certain times, let’s say. Sherlock looked down at himself and realized he’d need pants today. Ordinarily he’d have grabbed a pair of John’s but, well, they didn’t fit over his arse. Where the fuck were all his pants!

He quickly texted his spouse, “John! Where are all my pants? Did we have gremlins sneak in and take them?”. He received a quick answer, “have you tried the laundry room? I forgot to get that last load out!”

Gritting his teeth, he flung open the flat door and ran down the steps, avoiding Mrs. Hudson’s door and into the laundry room. Flinging open a dryer, he found nothing. Opening all the appliance lids did no good, there were no pants in the laundry room. After turning in circles, looking for a laundry basket or a stray pair of pants, he heard a voice behind him.

”Looking for something Sherlock?” Mrs Hudson was right behind him.

He spun around, “I need pants! I can’t get dressed for this case without pants! John said try the laundry room, there’s nothing here. Some pervert has stolen my pants!” He crossed his arms and glared at her.

”I put your basket at the top of the steps for you. In fact, you probably tripped over it getting to the stairs.” She glared right back.

”Thank you.” And our genius, nude detective turned and walked casually back towards the stairs, bid Mrs Hudson “good day”, and sprinted up the stairs, to see if the basket was there. It was. He’d really almost fallen over it. He picked out a pair of pants and, leaving the basket where it was, went to finish getting dressed.

Mrs Hudson waited until she heard the door close behind Sherlock before laughing. God she loved the two idiots.


	3. “What Did You Do To My Drawers?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is bored

John Watson was late for work and throwing anything on so he could get out the door. Opening his sock drawer, he stopped in confusion. WTF! “Sherlock Holmes!”

The man so named, sat up in bed, and glared at him. “I was asleep John! What can you possibly want?”

”What did you do to my sock drawer?” John asked.

Sherlock laid back down and pulled his pillow over his face. “Oh that.”

”Oh that?” John grabbed the pillow off Sherlock’s face. “Oh that?!”

”Look,” Sherlock sat up and said patiently, “I was bored one day and organized and indexed your sock drawer. Call it an act of love!”

“An act of love??” John just stared at his spouse. “Where did all my socks go?”

”Seriously John? I threw out all your socks with holes and stretched out elastic and I ordered replacements. They’ll be here later this week.”

”You could have asked!” John picked up a pair of socks and moved to the bedroom door. “It’s an invasion of privacy.”

”Whatever.” Sherlock turned back over and adjusted his pillow. “I was impressed that I waited until we were married before I redid your drawers.”

”Jesus Christ!” John said as he moved to the kitchen.

Sherlock closed his eyes and said quietly, “just wait till I get to your underwear drawer.” And smiled.


	4. I Live For Applause!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Applause! Sometimes art imitates life. I’ll say no more.

“Sherlock.”

“John.”

John Watson shifted languidly in their bed. The bed was so comfortable and the sex had been so hot and unexpected. It had started in the sitting room, wound through the kitchen and now they were covered in come, having somehow made it to the bedroom. He could just lay here forever. He trailed his foot up his spouse’s leg. And stopped. “Sherlock, do you hear clapping?”

His husband, wrapped around John’s smaller body, was dozing off when he abruptly sat up. “Who the hell is clapping? And what are they clapping for?” He scooted his bare arse off the bed and headed for the sitting room windows.

“John.”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“The windows are open.” Sherlock called from the front of the flat.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s why we can hear the clapping so well.” John hugged his pillow and rolled onto his front.

“No John, the clapping is because there’s, maybe fifteen people outside the window, clapping at our lusty sex noises.” Sherlock waved, the crowd applauded louder.

“What?!” John, suddenly wide awake, crawled off the bed and joined his spouse at the window. Yes, there was a crowd of people at Speedy’s and several were still looking upwards. At the sight of John, several cat-called and waved. John waved back and turned back to his spouse. “What are you doing?”

Sherlock had climbed into the window, still naked, held out his arms to the masses and took a bow. The applause grew. 

“You look like a cult leader inciting the masses! Will you get out of the window?” John tugged at his arm.

“In a minute John. I’ve always wanted a standing ovation.”

“You’re such an exhibitionist.” John shook his head and headed back to the bedroom.

“The term is show-off and I’ve never claimed to be anything else.” With a final wave, Sherlock followed his spouse back to bed. “And you love it.”


	5. I’m Bored!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock needs something to do.

“Bored. SH”

“Can’t help you. Don’t catch the flat on fire. Again.”

“I cleaned all my test tubes and beakers, I’ve been so bored. SH”

“That’s nice. Clean the brain material out of the fridge.”

“Doesn’t sound like fun. SH”

“Well I have a patient so I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you. SH”

~~~~~~~

“What time will you be home? SH”

“What did you do?”

“You have so little faith in me! I’ve thought of an experiment but I need your help. Will you pick up a few things for me? SH”

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you but that I know you! Send me a list. Does this involve nudity?”

“Yes.”

~~~~~~~

“I need three bottles of wine, shaving cream, a pack of those silly pink razors, a box of razor blades, a depilatory cream, a cucumber and two shower caps. SH”

“WTF!”

“Oh, and a soothing cream with aloe might be a good idea. SH”

“For the cucumber??”

“Theres no telling! SH”

~~~~~~~~~~

John was sitting on the bathroom floor, naked except for a shower cap. His wine bottle was almost empty and he couldn’t feel his toes. He wiggled them to be sure they were still attached. They were.

Sherlock, also naked, was sitting across from him with an equally almost-empty wine bottle. He adjusted his shower cap and handed his spouse a pink razor and the shaving cream. “OK, do your right leg with the pink razor. Don’t forget the shaving cream.” 

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this drunk.” John smoothed the cream over his right leg and picked up his razor. “What if I cut myself?”

“I brought the first aid kit in with me.” Sherlock did the same to his right leg. “Besides, you’re a doctor.”

“So I am! Now, do I have to shave my leg?” John blinked and tried to focus. He picked up the pink razor and began to shave after his husband’s affirmative.

~~~~~~~

“I cut my finger!” John held up his bleeding digit.

“Told you not to hold the razor blade that way.” Sherlock looked up from his left leg. “Do you need a band-aid?”

“I might need stitches.” John took the bandage anyway.

~~~~~~~~

“What are we going to do with the depilatory?” John was looking at his hairless legs in the mirror. “And the cucumber.”

“We’re going to use the depilatory on our arses. I’ll do yours and you can do mine.” Sherlock clumsily spread out a towel on the floor. “Lay down and let’s get started.”

~~~~~~~~~

“Look at all the hair that was on my arse!” John was looking in the drain. “That’s disgusting. Why didn’t you tell me my arse was that hairy?”

“I like your cute, little, hairy arse! And it’s only for the sake of science that I’m doing this experiment.” Sherlock was facedown on the floor, waiting the prescribed time so he good get rid of the cream on his posterior.

~~~~~~~~

“Are we out of wine?” John held up the third bottle. “Oh wait, I remember where I put some.” He ran out of the bathroom and moments later returned with two more bottles.

“Give one here!” Sherlock held out his large hand. “Ready for the next part?”

John took a big swallow from his bottle then seated himself next to his husband. “Now what?”, he asked happily.

“Our crotches!”

~~~~~~~~

John awoke and was surprised to find himself on the bedroom floor. He tried to pick himself up and off the floor but the room spun and his head pounded. Finally he managed to crawl into the bathroom although standing up to pee just wasn’t happening. He decided to sit. 

The hairless look was kind of interesting. They had gotten a little carried away but the overall effect was clean looking. His hand touched his cock when he noticed things felt odd.

“Sherlock mother-fucking Holmes!” John managed to walk to the bathroom door, dick in hand and yelled, “why are there band-aids all over my cock and balls!”

Sherlock picked up his head blearily and said, “I put them there. I thought they were cute. Now will you please shut up! My hair hurts.”

John came back into the bedroom and climbed into bed with his spouse. He was just dozing off when a horrible thought struck, “Sherlock! What happened to the cucumber?”


	6. Excuse Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John decorates with Sherlock in mind.

Sherlock Holmes made his way to the kitchen and caffeine. He had a big experiment planned (it had actually come to him in a dream) and he needed to be marginally awake before he began.

Grabbing a cup with one hand, eyes still partially closed, his questing hand found the coffee pot, only to find it empty. 

Opening up an eye, then two, he saw a note. “Baby, push the button to start the coffee. Tea is set up as well. After bandaging your cock (please stop doing experiments naked!), I have realized yet again how brilliantly simple-minded you can be! Look for tags and follow the instructions! Love you!”

“John,” the detective just shook his head and pushed the button for coffee. And noticed a tag on the coffee maker, “Sherlock! Do not put your dick here!” That was bad enough but the attached picture of a cock with curly pubic hair on the burner with a line through it was just offensive. He’d only done that once and he’d been half asleep at the time.

Taking his coffee cup, he opened the drawer looking for a spoon and found, “Sherlock! Knives and forks do not belong by your dick.” The attached sticker showed the same curly pubes and dick, laying on a plate with the utensils placed to indicate they’d cut into and hold the meat, also with a line through it. Cringing, he grabbed a spoon and hurriedly shut the drawer (just missed slamming his cock), and spooned an amazing amount of sugar in his cup. He was not a hazard to himself! These notes and stickers were just offensive.

Moving towards the bathroom and an eye-opening shower, he found more insanity. Attached to his razor was a sticker of someone shaving their pubic hair, with an amazing amount of blood, and a line through it. Reading the attached note, “I love you so don’t cut your dick off!”, he decided John had lost his mind but allowed himself a smirk. The cut had healed nicely with no lasting side effects, so there John Watson!

The shower was hot and our boy was coming alive when he picked up his shampoo bottle and found a waterproof note (“shampoo does not go in your eyes! I don’t care what part of Anderson you accidentally saw!”) and a sticker of a person (who looked a lot like him) pouring shampoo in his eyes! Enough! He hadn’t intended to do that but the bottle slipped while he was demonstrating the horror of seeing Anderson naked.

Getting dressed was no better! He found a note on his closet door, (“Sherlock, wear pants so you don’t zip hair or skin in your zipper!”) and little stickers on his trousers with someone’s balls stuck in a zipper and the usual line through it. He’d only done that once, maybe twice, and it had hurt so much he’d never do it again.

John was being seriously offensive! He was not a simpleton! His phone rang while he was adjusting the collar of his favorite purple shirt. 

“Lestrade.”

“Have a case for you and it’s a good one! I’ll text you the address.”

“Ok, on my way.”

Grabbing his Belstaff, he headed for the door only to turn aside at the last moment to grab his keys when he ran cock-first into the doorknob. Going to his knees and trying not to throw up, he saw the note, “don’t run into door with dick!”, with the attached sticker.

“Fuck you John!”, said our detective as he tried to uncurl from the ball he’d turned into on the floor. “Fuck you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep seeing warning stickers about places one should not put their genitals and voila!


	7. Why Is The Skull Wearing Dirty Pants?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are cleaning

The flat had reached an all-time level of disgust and John had had enough. Dragging his protesting spouse into the sitting room, he had gestured in amazement, “look at this! I’m used to an incredible level of clutter but this is insane! The skull is wearing a dirty pair of pants! We’re going to clean!”

Sherlock wasn’t thrilled with John’s latest enthusiasm [enthusiasm?! It smells like a fucking bordello in here!] and, in the spirit of correctness, pointed out that the skull was actually wearing two pairs of dirty pants! He really should have known better.

So, here he was, trash bag in hand, gathering debris. Yippee. Bending down to grab a sock [that goes in the laundry pile Sherlock! Not the garbage!], he did a slam dunk into the laundry basket on the sofa. “Two points!”

John, who was standing on the other side of the room, balled up a pair of dirty pants (his) and threw. And missed the basket. “Fuck me!”

“Short men can’t jump, John!” Sherlock picked up the pants and made the shot.

“Since when have you played basketball?” John grabbed a pair of socks and shot. And missed.

“Never but that’s not the point. It’s a tall man’s game. Have you ever played?” He made the sock shot as well.

“In the military. We played the American doctor’s down the road. They kicked our arse’s!” John shot again. And missed.

“You need to be tall to play the game, John. Some of those guys make me look short!” He gathered up the clothing John had missed with and threw them back to him. 

John took another shot with his dirty jeans (why had they been under Sherlock’s chair?) and would have made this shot but his husband blocked it.

“Oh, you are on!” John came towards his husband, intent on getting his jeans back, but Sherlock stuck his hands in the air, well out of a short doctor’s reach.

“You fucking suck!” John launched himself at his husband, tickling his ribs until Sherlock lowered his arms to fight off his tiny tyrant and John retrieved the item. He shot again, and missed, again.

“I don’t remember tickling being a part of the game John!” Sherlock shot again. And made it.

“Yeah well, those guys have never played against you!” John aimed and threw again. And missed. “Ugh! This game fucking sucks!”

“How can you shoot someone with your gun and yet can’t make a basket?” The detective blocked his spouse’s next shot. “It is a mystery. Should I put the basket on the ground?”

“Ha ha. I’m not laughing.” John looked around for more dirty clothes but they seemed to have got them all. “Well fuck!”

“Don’t be discouraged! We can ball all this paper up and shoot them into the waste can!” Sherlock looked around, “where shall we put it?”

“By the skull!” John said helpfully. “And it will, hopefully be more of a challenge to you.”

“What do I get if I win.” Sherlock was grabbing junk mail and crumbling it up. “I may need an incentive.”

“Incentive? Please! You’re going down Mr Holmes!” John shot and missed.

“Maybe you need incentive. I know, for every shot you make, I’ll remove an item of clothing. For everyone you miss, you remove an item.”

“You’re on!” John shot. And missed.

“I’m not worried.” He made the shot easily. “Remove something!”

John grumbled, “Fuck!” He removed his shoe. “Let’s go!” 

Sherlock handed him a paperwad and John missed. Again.

“Would you like me to turn up the heat?”

“I hate you!” John took off his other shoe. “Let’s go!”

“You missed John!”


	8. “John, I Have To Pee!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get stuck.

“Holy fuck!” Sherlock Holmes yelled from his side of their partners desk.

His husband, John Watson, jumped and nearly spilled his tea, “What?” He looked around frantically, “What?”

“John! You’ve got to see this!” Sherlock stood up, frantically gesturing, “it’s fucking insane!”

The doctor cautiously made his way to his husband’s side, when nothing grabbed his crotch, he relaxed, a bit. “See what?”

“Our fans have taken to writing stories about us.” Sherlock pointed at his laptop.

John really relaxed, “fanfic? I’ve seen some of it. It’s harmless and some of it is pretty good. What’s the problem?”

“Read this!” Our detective pushed his spouse into his chair.

John rolled his eyes but began to read. Two paragraphs in, he felt his eyebrows rise. By the end of the third, he was shouting, “what the fuck! Is that even possible? I don’t think my legs bend that way!”

“Keep reading.” Sherlock had his hands on John’s shoulders, holding him in place. Two more seconds until...

“Ahhhhhh!!!!!! That is not fucking possible! You’d need a couple extra vertebrate to even attempt it.” John had his hands over his eyes to blot out the vision. “Jesus!”

“Keep reading.”

“What can possibly be next? Does my spine turn into silly putty? Cause that’s the only way that would work.” John complained but continued reading in horrified fascination. “Wait, you have a tail? That could be interesting!” He pushed back from the desk, “whoa! Your tail turns into another penis??? And can do that? Now I’m envious!”

“Keep reading John. Say it with me, double penetration!” Sherlock had his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall waiting to deliver the coups de grace. “Keep going, theres artwork to go along with it.”

“Oh dear God...”

Later.....

“I bet if we drank enough wine, we could bend that way.” John was studying the drawing of them. It really was well done.

“Yeah but then we wouldn’t be able to get it up!” Sherlock refilled their glasses.

“No seriously, let’s try this!” John pointed, “lay with your head over there,” he grabbed his husband’s left foot and put it behind a sofa cushion, “now take your other leg and pull it over your head.”

With some adjusting, Sherlock did as requested (they really had drunk a lot of wine) and waited. “Now what?”

“Well, the drawing me is ridiculously well-hung but I can probably get myself into position and insert the tip of my cock....” More grunts and rustling noises. “Now, take your other foot and insert your big toe in my arse.” More grunts.

“Glad I keep my nails short.” Sherlock muttered. “Hey! My toe can still get an erection!” The detective declared happily, “not sure about my cock. I can’t move my arms, can you see if I’m erect?”

John groped for a minute, “Yep. Or is that your knee?”

“Don’t know. Now what?”

“I think I’m erect as well. Now we move.”

“Are you moving?” Sherlock asked.

“Not sure. I think so.” John continued, “Hey wait, your foot is in my face. Not that I care but is that the toe that was up my butt?”

“Why don’t you smell it and see. No, never mind. I think my toe is still in your arse. Want me to add my other one?”

“I don’t think that will work but give it a try.” John waited patiently accompanied by more rustling sounds and grunts.

“John, I have to pee.”

“Damn it, now I do too. Can we untangle ourselves?”

“John, I’m stuck.”

“So am I Sherlock!”

“I really have to pee.”

“We’re not into water sports!”

“Thank God! I doubt I could drink enough to forget that.”

Grunts and more rustling, “Sherlock, we may have a problem.”

“What?”

“We’re stuck.”

“How do we get out of this?”

“Call someone.”

“Like who John?”

“Fuck me!”

“Drink up John, maybe we’ll just melt.” Sherlock slipped the bottle to his husband.

“One can only hope.” 

“I still have to pee John.”


	9. Where's John?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is sick

"Sherlock!" Greg Lestrade spotted the detective and waved. "The corpse is over here."

Sherlock Holmes headed towards the NSY group, picking his way over debris. The corpse was face down, arms and legs spread. The arms were a little higher than shoulder height and the index finger of the right hand was pointing off into the distance. The left hand had it's middle finger raised in a salute. The dead man's trousers were pulled down past his very hairy arse. "Seriously?" Sherlock looked at Lestrade in disgust. "Our dead man committed suicide, injected the narcotic then positioned himself where his ex-wife would see him when she looked out her window. She left him for his best friend, took everything and kept the dog. One finger is pointing to her window, in case we miss the point. The other messages are pretty obvious, even for you lot." He started to walk away in disgust, "I left John home sick for this?"

Lestrade caught up with him. "Yes, how is John feeling today?"

"They've determined that he doesn't have Covid, just a stunning case of the flu. He is asleep in our bed surrounded by tissues, cold and flu meds, two books, the remote control and a vibrator that quit working. I didn't ask but I think he's trying to fix it." Sherlock raised his arm and yelled, "taxi!" Of course one instantly appeared. "Although he might be trying to turn it on and off with the remote control in his delirium, it's hard to say." The detective arranged himself on the seat and looked back at Lestrade, "seriously! If you need me to give a statement, email it to me."

The cab took off, pulling easily into traffic. Lestrade smirked, John owed him so much for dragging his husband out of the house on such a wimpy case but he'd been driving the good doctor insane with his hovering attentions. They'd actually figured out the majority of the case before even calling the detective. "I am such a good friend!" he thought as he made his way back to the crime scene.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock entered the flat and headed straight for the bedroom, shedding his outer layers as he went. There was a John-sized lump in the bed but it was hard to tell since it was covered by a blanket with only the tip of his red nose peaking out. He was also snoring loudly and surrounded by a field of used tissues. 

"Jesus John! And you say I'm a pig?" The detective didn't have many qualms but for some reason snot made him queasy. He grabbed the broom and swept the bed of its covering of used tissues (being careful not to look at them) and swept the whole mess into the trash can that was sitting by the bed. "Seriously? It's right next to the bed!" He then swept around the bed, stepped in something he didn't want to look at too closely and then took the whole mess out to the bins. "Yuck!"

Back in the bedroom, he stripped in preparation to take a hot bath (something about snot made him want to submerge in water) when the John-sized lump stirred.

"S'lock?" came a very raspy voice.

Sherlock felt his heart expand and his stomach feel funny. "Hey baby! It's time for your next dose. Open up." The vile smelling liquid disappeared into John and Sherlock arranged the blankets over him. "I'm going to take a bath then I'll join you."

"OK."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, a clean and more relaxed detective entered the bedroom to find John asleep and the bed covered in used tissues, again. Sherlock leaned against the door and sighed. Just how offended would John be if he slept on the couch until the snot phase was over??


	10. WTF Is That???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has new toys.

It was cold, wet and rainy in London. John had had a horrible day at the surgery and to make matters that much better, his umbrella had died. Ordinarily he didn't take cabs but this night, he didn't hesitate. All he really wanted was to get home, take a hot bath and cuddle his husband. "Please, no cases tonight", he found himself hoping as he climbed out of the cab. "Please, no insanity", he found himself praying as he mounted the seventeen steps to the open flat door.

Inside, the fire was warm and welcoming. John felt his tensions ease as he took off his wet outer garments. Maybe some take-away tonight. Curry sounded good.

"John! Catch!" Sherlock's happy voice rang out.

John, a little slow on the uptake, looked up just in time to get a severed arm in the face. "Jesus Christ!" he screamed. "What the fuck Sherlock! I've told you about dead body parts in the house and now you throw them at me?" Bending down, he looked quizzically at the arm. "Wait a minute?"

"Yes! Isn't it great!?!? I've found a website for a company that sells realistic body parts! They're toys! I got the whole set!" Sherlock bounced around the kitchen with excitement. "My shipment came today! We should buy stock in this company, John! They are wonderful!"

Our poor doctor tentatively entered the kitchen to find a plethora of disgusting objects. Entrails, severed limbs, a heart, fingers and god knew what else were spread over every flat surface. All realistic rubber toys.

"Wow Sherlock. Words seriously fail me." John looked about him. "What's the name of this company? Ghouls Are Us?"

"Ha ha, John." Sherlock came forward to hug his spouse and presented him with a spleen. "Look at this! It's so realistic!"

"I guess I should be thrilled, at least these only smell like rubber. And you won't leave them in the refrigerator so that's a bonus." John examined the spleen with interest. "Yes, these are rather good. What else did you get?"

"Have a seat, I ordered take-away which should be here shortly." John allowed himself to be seated at the table as his husband showed him his new toys. "And, I got a few other things to show you in just a sec."

"Do I have time to take a bath before dinner gets here?" John smiled at his unique spouse.

"Of course. We can always reheat things if need be." The detective made shooing motions to his spouse. "Go become warm and clean. You'll feel much better."

John headed to the bathroom, life was never dull with Sherlock. Frightening occasionally. Often smelly. Terrifying might be the better word. But never dull.


	11. Crotch Groupies!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is disturbed by fansites.
> 
> To my favorite Crotch Groupies! LaKoda, for some reason I see you as the ringleader here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There I was, innocently scrolling through Twitter, and someone posted something that led to me saying "crotch groupies" which led to this. It's no wonder I never get anything done.

From Sherlock's side of their partners desk came a scream, causing John to jump and nearly upset his tea. "Jesus Christ! What did you do? Are you alright?" 

"John! I thought I'd seen everything but no! This is a whole new level of insanity!" Sherlock said dramatically.

Mildly curious, John got up and made his way to his husband's side. "What are you looking at?"

"It's a website, John, dedicated to your penis! These women are insane! You've got crotch groupies, John!"

"Excuse me?" Our good doctor was sure he'd heard wrong.

"Crotch Groupies! They've found pictures of you on-line, cropped the rest of you out and posted pictures of your crotch. You're clothed, thank goodness, or these women and I would be fighting." Sherlock was angrily scrolling through the page.

"Oh dear god."

"Oh, this is priceless! "Questions We Want Answered About Watson's Cock Before We Die". Does Watson dress to the left or right? Does Watson's cock have a name? Do the curtains match the drapes? Is John as well hung as he appears or are his balls just incredibly big?"

"What the fuck???" John was dumbfounded.

"I'm telling you John! These people are freaks! Here are a few more. "If I were to sleep with John Watson, would my tonsils hurt? Do you think Watson is clean shaven? If I were to ask nicely, do you think I could get both Holmes and Watson to do me at the same time, I'm now STD free." Sherlock scrolled back up through the page and began typing.

"What are you doing?" John was resigned to just about anything at this point.

"Answering their questions."


	12. Crotch Groupies, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is playing with the Crotch Groupies.
> 
> For LaKoda and Innerspectrum, pervs of a feather, you know.

An hour or so later, John stood and stretched. Looking to his husband's side of the desk, he saw (and heard) him, typing loudly and muttering under his breath. "I'm going to the kitchen. Would you like more tea?"

"No! I need something more than tea. More than coffee. Get me an energy drink!" Sherlock didn't even look up as he continued pounding the keys.

"OK." John continued on his way to the kitchen. "Wait a minute." A disembodied voice said. John reappeared in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"Dealing with your Crotch Groupies, John!" More typing. "These women are insane."

John retreated back to the kitchen. "You're poking the bear. Just ignore them. How do you know they're all women?"

"I'm guessing but it's a good bet. Ignoring them won't do any good, they're somewhat rabid. They also seem to have you confused with some actor." More pounding.

"What actor?" John gave his spouse the energy drink as well as a plate of biscuits. 

"Don't try to feed me John! I'll get crumbs in my keyboard!" More typing. "Johnaconda, I kinda like that one."

"What actor, Sherlock?"

"Oh, um, Freeman. Don't remember his name." Munching sounds could be heard from the other side of the desk. "Want to know what they call your cock?"

"NO!" John thought for a minute. "OK, give me although it will probably make me scream."

"Johnaconda."

John was right, it did make him scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock's answers for those who are curious.

From someone who intimately knows John Watson, let me explain some things. Your fixation with his genitals is understandable. Freaky, but understandable. And so you can die happy (sort of), let me answer a few questions. If you're staring that hard at someone's dick and you can't tell which way they're dressing, maybe they're not that well hung. In John's case, this isn't true but that you can't surmise this makes me question your eyesight. Or maybe I just need to replace the John jeans? Hmmm.

I do not feel the need to name things, thank you very much. Let me just say that Johnaconda is particularly appropriate. I'll say no more.

Do the curtains match the drapes? Sometimes, it depends on how much naked sunning we do.

Let me just say that the total Johnaconda (to borrow your term) package is very nice and has been known to make me walk funny after a vigorous weekend. I periodically have to stop and crack my jaw as well. I'll leave the details up to your, no doubt, vivid imaginations.

Since you won't be sleeping with John Watson, you don't have to worry about your tonsils hurting. You still have yours? Can I see them?

We've been known to shave but if you're a hairy guy, it's a lot to keep up with. Let's just say that sometimes when there are no cases, or it's really cold, or we drink too much, clean shaven has been known to happen.

Ugh, no thank you to the threesome! Appreciate the thought, but no. Although what kind of STD??? I may have some questions for a case.

No, I will not provide nude pictures. Although there have been times we've gone streaking. If you happen to be out and about some night, you might "see" us. You can thank me later.

No, I am not his "bitch". We take turns. Although when we dress as women (for a case, calm down), he does look incredible in short skirts. He just needs to remember to wear panties. And not bend over.

I'm sure you'll have more questions but try to control yourselves! May I suggest valium? Or a lobotomy?

You may also notice that your pictures of John's crotch now have MINE painted across them in bright red letters. I don't know how that happened.


	13. Plunder Bunnies!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has his own set(s) of groupies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock, of course, has his own set of groupies. So, Kat, Queen of Neckporn, I did make you a stalker but take a bow!

"Oh Sherlock!" John entered the bedroom sounding particularly happy.

His husband, already naked and under the blanket, said irritably, "Oh what, John? I'm naked and in bed yet somehow my spouse is not naked and in bed with me. You should be licking me not carrying your laptop around fully dressed."

John was still dressed but didn't let Sherlock's complaints deter him from his mission. With laptop in hand, he sat on his side of the bed and pulled up a page. "Got something for you."

The detective groaned and muttered, "Oh, what?" Sitting up, he said, "it better not be that creepy fat porn star with the huge dick again. I had nightmares the last time we saw a movie with him in it."

"Nope," John popped the p happily. "You know how you've been giving me a hard time about my more obsessed fans? The Crotch Groupies." Sherlock just looked at him. "Well, you have groupies as well."

"I'm sure I do, John. Many people are fascinated by my brain and deducing methods." He lay back down with a thump.

"Not what I meant. Here's a group who admire and lust after your neck. They have pictures where they have cropped out your body, leaving just your neck. Actually, I see their point. They found a video of you walking down an alley while removing your scarf and have posted it. They slow it down, speed it up, provide a moaning soundtrack and make up songs to it. They call it neckporn! I could probably come without being touched just watching it." 

"I'm not laughing John."

"I am. It's run by someone billed as "the Queen of Neckporn"! Oh my god," John looked closer, "I've seen her!" Elbowing his spouse, who was hiding under the blankets, he said, "look Sherlock! Isn't this the woman who stopped us the other day, asking for directions?"

His spouse sat up and looked closer, "yes, I've seen her several times lately. Actually, when I was hailing a cab the other day, she asked where my sheet was."

"Lovely Sherlock! You have a stalker!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next morning:

"Caffeine." A sheet draped consulting detective wandered into the kitchen and looked about. "Please tell me you made coffee or something."

John was sitting at the table, laptop in front of him, snickering. "Yes, there's caffeine. I've been married to you long enough to know you can't function without it."

Grabbing a cup, Sherlock filled it then added his usual insane amount of sugar. Sitting down across from his husband, he asked, "what are you doing?"

"Remember the neckporn insanity? Wait until you see the page devoted to your arse, called "Bountiful Plunder"! The fans call themselves Plunder Bunnies. We definitely need to pull the curtains though. They have nude pictures."


	14. Its Chemistry, John!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock cooks

John Watson, sitting on a high stool in their kitchen, was open-mouthed watching his husband flail about. However, this time Sherlock wasn't conducting an experiment or berating NSY, he was cooking. And the reason for the open mouth? Sherlock was cooking very well.

One would think with his willowy physique and brains in the refrigerator habits, that cooking would be one of the last things the detective would do. As he'd explained to John, more than once, why would he cook for just himself when there were so many more interesting things going on? But tonight, the detective had decided he was going to cook. It was cold and wet outside, the criminal element were comatose and he was bored so... He'd texted John to bring home a few ingredients with him as well as his appetite. John, understandably, was slightly disturbed but did as requested. If it turned out to be inedible, they could always order in.

He'd walked into 221 Baker St to the most amazing smells. Following the scent up the seventeen steps to their flat, he'd found the kitchen table swathed in vegetables, an unbelievable sauce simmering and Sherlock in tight jeans (jeans???), no shirt and an apron. John felt faint, whether from sheer surprise or the mammoth erection he suddenly had, he wasn't prepared to say.

"You look really fucking hot." Which wasn't what John had meant to say. He tried again, "what are you making?"

"Homemade pizza. I've made my own sauce and dug out my secret dough recipe." He stirred briefly then turned to his husband, "if you can ignore your erection for awhile, I could use your help."

Which is how John found himself sitting on the stool, knife in hand, slicing mushrooms. He watched Sherlock take two pizza pans (pizza pans? We have pizza pans?), check the crust then set them both on the kitchen table.

"OK John, I'm going to put the sauce and cheese on then you need to spread the pepperoni and mushrooms about."

"Where did you learn to cook?" John asked as he began his part of the dinner tasks.

"I used to spend summers at my grandparent's farm. My grandmother was an incredible cook. She'd always wanted to study in Paris to be a chef but WWII got in the way." Sherlock finished with the sauce then moved to help John with the mushrooms.

"I never knew that! Together all this time and there are still things I don't know about you!" John finished putting the last of his fungus on the pizza. "Now what?"

Sherlock handed him a bowl with sliced green peppers, "sprinkle these over both pizzas.

John did as requested then asked, "so this was your maternal grandparents?"

"No, paternal. My dad isn't the idiot he likes to claim. He just concerns himself with other things. Get him started on his pet topics and you'll try to chew your arm off to get away. He's the glue in our family, believe it or not."

"Actually, I do believe that. Someone has to be practical with you three." John put down the empty bowl. "Now what?"

"Now they bake, then we eat."

"There's a lot of sauce left. What are you going to do with it?" John asked.

Sherlock took off his apron and moved closer to John, "well once we're done eating, I was thinking of smearing it on you."

"Oh dear god, yes!" John said as he wrapped his arms around his sexy spouse.


	15. "Where Is My Hand Grenade?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes art imitates life. I can't find my hand grenade (inert!) and neither can Sherlock!

"John Hamish Watson!" Sherlock yelled.

"What?" Our cute little doctor poked his head around the kitchen doorway. 

"I can't find my fucking hand grenade!" This said with a sweep of a long arm that knocked paper and other assorted debris to the kitchen floor. Sherlock swirled in place, scanning the flat surfaces in the kitchen for the offending item.

"The inert one?" John entered the kitchen, careful not to step on the debris pile.

"No John, the one I pulled the pin on and misplaced!"

Ignoring the sarcasm, John said, "Where did you have it last?"

"Oh don't try logic with me! We have gremlins or something!" More arm sweeps, more flying paper. "Well, fuck me!" The detective stopped and stood looking around the flat.

"Is that it by the skull?" John asked reasonably.

"Oh why would it be there!" More paper thrown. "Fuck it! I'm just going to have to call that old Army buddy of yours and get another one."

This wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that John almost regretted telling his spouse about his friend from the military who took old military products, made them safe, then sold then to history buffs and people like Sherlock. "I'm sure he's missed hearing from you."

"I got an email from him yesterday. He has more inventory. How fortuitous that I lost mine today!" Sherlock made his way to his laptop. "I'll ask him if he's open tomorrow. We can go roam about and buy!"

The hand grenade was really by the skull. John tucked it out of sight behind some books and said, "Let him know we're coming then." They could always use another (inert) hand grenade. And John could hopefully find more pieces for the antique military med kit he was building. "I'm sure he's missed us."

"How could he not!" The detective hit send with a flourish.


	16. We Need New Toys John!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock starts his day off right.

John was sitting at the table, reading the paper and finishing breakfast, when his spouse came into the kitchen. "Your breakfast is getting cold!" John pointed out as he took a sip of tea.

"Oh please John! I'm beyond breakfast!" Sherlock declared as he swanned around the kitchen. Finally seating himself, he said, "this quarantine stuff is getting on my last nerve. I'd really like to go to our favorite porn store and pick up some new toys but they're probably not open. Would you be up for an on-line foray?"

"That has appeal," John admitted. "Were you thinking of anything in particular?"

"Well, I was thinking of new red pants for you." Sherlock found himself eating without meaning to do so. "What would you say to silk?"

"On me?" John practically shrieked.

"No John, on Mr. Chatterjee!" You could almost hear the eyeroll. "There is more to life than cotton y-fronts." 

"But I like to be comfortable!" John put the paper down as he protested. "I don't need silk. I want support! Pants are supposed to be practical."

"Do you hear yourself? Practical? Have you actually looked at some of the pants you've bought for me?' Sherlock swallowed another mouthful of egg. "Nope, this time its my turn to be gloriously impractical and hormonal."

"I don't really need..." John began.

"Trust me!" Sherlock exclaimed. "You do trust me, don't you?"

What was John supposed to say but, "of course I do Sherlock."

A week later:

"Sherlock! There's a large box here for you."

"Oh good! I'm still at Bart's but I'll be home shortly. We'll open it together! SH"

"What is it?"

"Don't open it John! My underwear/toy order is here! Promise to model for me??? SH"

"Sherlock, I just got home from the surgery."

"I fail to see the cause and effect! You insist on me modeling your purchases but won't reciprocate??? I thought we had a marriage based on mutual trust and support. SH"

"OK, OK. I'll take a shower while I'm waiting."

Later:

"Boxer briefs?" John looked doubtful. "I don't know Sherlock."

His husband gave him a sad, pleading look. "Please? For me?"

A few minutes later:

"OK, I really like these!" John was looking at himself in the mirror. "They're really comfortable. What else did you get?"

"I really like the way they hug your bulge!" Sherlock was reclining on their bed. "And because I'm a good husband, I will not even say, "I told you so". Not more than a few times a day."

"OK, OK. What else did you get?"


	17. I Can't Even Imagine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys discuss childhood.

"Hey, so we're going to your parent's house this weekend, right?"

"I keep hoping for something catastrophic to happen so we won't have to go. No cases at all. I'd even settle for a plague of boils. SH"

"Uh huh. Can't help you there. Besides, we haven't been down to see them in awhile. Are your brother and Lestrade coming?"

"God, I hope not. It will be bad enough waking up in the middle of the night to my parents moaning but to have those two as well... The last time I ran into Mycroft on my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He forgot his robe. Shudder of horror. SH"

"I remember that! You screamed and pretended to faint. You and Mycroft must have been hell as children."

"WWMD. SH"

"World wide mass destruction??? I mean, I could see you two causing havoc and mayhem trying to outdo each other."

"Haha, no. What would Mycroft do. I've always tried to do the opposite. He hated cheesecake, I love it. He refused to wear purple, it's my favorite color. The only things we've done remotely similar were deductions and getting thrown out of school. SH"

"Mycroft got thrown out of school??? Dare I ask why?"

"Someone stole his cake slice at lunch. He beat them up. Even I was impressed. SH"

"Why did you get thrown out of school?"

"Which time? Once I blew up the chemistry lab, once I deduced the teacher was having an affair with a classmates mother and told everyone about it, on a field trip I said a famous tapestry was yards of wasted worsted, the list goes on. SH"

"Why do I have no problem seeing these things?"

"Did you ever get thrown out of school? SH"

"Nope. I was smart enough to hide my crimes."

"Whatever. Do I really need to pack? I don't want to do this? SH"

"Yes! We're leaving after I get home from the surgery. Pack clothes for both of us and this time don't "accidently" forget to pack pants for me!"

"You're no fun John! SH"

"Pack Sherlock! Please."

"OK, OK. Maybe if you're good I'll send you a nude picture of moi. SH"

"That would be nice but doesn't tend to work out. Say it with me, "Sherlock accidently sent nude picture to his mother who suggested he use lotion as he looked chaffed."

"That was one time! SH"

"Pack!"

"Spoilsport! SH"


	18. The Sofa!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get new furniture

It had been coming for a long time but they ignored it for as long as possible. Sherlock would have been the one most likely to notice but he never fell asleep on the sofa unless he was ready to drop. It wasn't until John went face-first into the cushions with his arse in the air (it was for sex OK? Get your minds out of the gutter!), that it could no longer be hidden.

John sat bolt upright, dislodging his husband's face and tongue from between his arse cheeks, and screamed, "Jesus Christ! What is that smell?"

Our consulting detective was a tad disoriented as you can imagine. He went from happily rimming his spouse and preparing to mount the cuddly little doctor, to face-down on the floor squashing his erection. Picking himself up to hands and knees, he yelled, "What the fuck John! Are you alright?"

John, standing now and backing away from the couch in horror, said "can't you smell that? Something has died in between the cushions!"

"Seriously?" Sherlock was standing now, looking down at the sofa and then at his spouse who was clutching a throw pillow like a shield. "Have you ever wiped down the couch cushions?"

"No."

"Ever picked up the cushions and Hoovered out the crumbs and such?"

"No." The pillow was still being used shield-like.

"Ever cleaned the couch in any way? Cleaned up the cum stains? Wiped up the tea spills?"

"What's your point?" The pillow was lowered somewhat.

"John! That piece of furniture is a thriving Petrie dish! Women could probably get pregnant by sitting on that couch! There are probably new life forms sprouting in the lining." Sherlock walked to the kitchen door and back. "And you just now noticed the fetid odor coming from it?"

"You don't have to be rude," John said somewhat defensively.

"I'm just saying that your timing sucks! Come to the bedroom so I can finish licking you and then I want to pound your arse into the mattress. When we're done, we can go on-line and order a new sofa. OK?" He held out his hand to John.

"OK." John let himself be led into the bedroom. "There had better not be body parts in the couch though Sherlock!"


	19. Sherlock Is Sick!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our detective is laid low by a nasty cold.
> 
> I went on a Red Dwarf binge so Sherlock does as well.

"Jawn!"

"What Sherlock?" John was standing in the doorway to their bedroom adjusting his tie.

"How can you go to work and leave me like this?" This is what the detective meant to say but the result came out a good deal less coherent since his head was stuffed full of snot. John got the message anyway.

"Leave you like what?" The doctor came closer and sat on the foot of the bed. "In about fifteen minutes, give or take, you're going to pass out from the loaded medication I just gave you. You will drool, snore and not notice I'm gone." He felt his husband's forehead. "You will wake up in a few hours, call for me but I won't hear you since a) I'll be at work and b) your voice will be gone. You will drag yourself out of bed, go to the bathroom, think about calling me to complain, realize you don't have a voice and start texting me. I'll remind you to take the next dose of the medicine I've left on the nightstand. You'll pout and try to sleep without it. I'll arrive home to find you hacking up a lung, dose your stupid arse and feed you, you'll pass out and I'll get some much needed quiet time until about midnight when the whole thing will start all over again." He kissed the sweaty forehead. Holding his hands over the detectives head, he solemnly announced, "you're getting sleepy, sleepy! When I count to seven, you will be asleep."

"I hate you." Sherlock muttered, already half asleep.

"No you don't. Seven!" He was greeted by a snore. Smiling broadly, he got off the bed and went to collect his jacket. If he wasn't already scheduled off tomorrow, he'd have probably taken today off but knowing that his spouse would feel worse then, he'd go in today. Besides, Mrs. Hudson would stop up later and make sure his husband was OK.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One pm.

"John, I stopped upstairs to check on Sherlock. He'd fallen out of bed and didn't notice. I woke him up and made him take a dose of his cold medication. When I left he was pouting and reaching for his phone. "

"Thanks Mrs. Hudson! I guess that means he'll start texting me soon."

"You're a saint John Watson! I don't know if I've told you lately!"

"I know! But he's so cute!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes later:

"Seriously! Mrs. H woke me up! I told her I always sleep on the floor because I like the firmness. She didn't believe me. SH"

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh stupendous! I have crusted snot on my face, I can't breath unless my mouth is open (I feel like a trout) and I'm sweaty. What kind of drugs are you giving me? I don't remember you leaving. Is this a new date rape drug? It's really not necessary you know. My arse is always ready for you, just say the word! And, as well, I'm always ready to do your arse. No drugs needed! SH"

"You're insane. But I love you!"

"You'd better. I'm very loveable. SH"

"Go back to bed. I'll bring home curry. You might even be able to taste it."

"I think I'll go back to bed. Maybe I'll binge watch something. SH"

"Go ahead but you won't get far in any series! You're going to pass out again."

"Just think I'm medicated and feel this bad! Wake me up in a couple days when I feel better. Love you! SH"

"Love you!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"John Watson! There are fucking gremlins in this house! I just woke up to insanity! SH"

"What now?"

"I feel asleep while binge watching Red Dwarf and woke up to the theme song on repeat because the DVD was stuck. I'm singing and can't get the song out of my head! SH"

"Oh dear god! How long was it doing that?"

"Feels like a week but may have only been fifteen minutes. I know the whole damn song now! "Fun, fun, fun in the sun, sun, sun!" SH"

"Oh boy. Seriously?"

"I want to lie, ship wrecked and comatose, drinking fresh mango juice...SH"

"OK, OK!!! I believe you! Go back to sleep! I'll wake you up when I get home!"

"Fun, fun, fun, in the sun, sun, sun!" You so owe me head. Love you! SH"

"OK, but I'll wait a few days! You'd pass out from lack of oxygen in the middle of an orgasm and I'd feel bad and wouldn't be able to get an erection for days out of guilt!"

"Really? SH"

"No, go to sleep!"


	20. The Halloween Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock’s parents throw a party

“Sherlock! It’s Mom!”

“Yes, I do know that! Your number is programmed into my phone so your name pops up. SH”

“And you persist on signing your messages but I have your number in my phone as well.”

“Need something Mother? SH”

“Yes! Your father and I are throwing our annual Halloween Party and want you and John to come.”

“No. SH”

“Please.”

No!!! SH”

“Why ever not?”

“Seriously? Last year you lured us down there and then you showed up as a prostitute with Dad as your pimp! Fuck no! SH”

“Oh honestly! That was last year! And besides, I know you want a chance to wear your pirate costume. And John looks so good in his military garb. You know you want to!”

“What are you going as? SH”

“That would be telling!”

”No. SH”

”I promise to have all my body parts covered this time.”

”What about Dad? SH”

”He’ll be dressed as well.”

”I’m sure he will be. Last time if I wanted to talk to you, I had to go through Dad and pay for the privilege. SH”

”He really got into the role!”

“Are Mycroft and Greg coming? SH”

“Greg said they were.”

“I’ll think about it. SH”

“I’ll talk to John! He’ll make sure you both attend.”

“I’m not talking to you! SH”

“I’ll send John the details! See you then!”

~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you talked me into this!” Sherlock said as he got out of the vehicle and shook out his cape.

John joined his husband, grabbed his hand and said, “I know but I have to see what your mother is wearing this year!

”On your head be it!” Sherlock, as a very tall, very gorgeous Dracula, swept up the walk to the door.

John, as a matador, followed with a bemused smile on his face. How bad could his in-laws costumes be?

The door opened before they reached it and John nearly tripped. Margaret Holmes was in charge this year. She was wearing head to toe leather with buckles and such at odd points. The dress was low cut and she was wearing spike heels. What was making John feel faint though was the image of his calm father-in-law. She and Timothy has swapped roles this year. Margaret, as mentioned, was the dominatrix. Timothy, sporting leather pants and boots, no shirt, a ball gag and a leash around his neck that Margaret was holding, was the sub at her feet.

”Hello boys!” Margaret called cheerfully. Timothy pointed to the ball gag then waved.

”I hate you!” Sherlock whispered as the mounted the steps to the door. “I might have to get royally plastered to deal with this.”

John, still dazed by the spectacle in front of him, muttered, “I’m right there with you!”


	21. I Have An Erection!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John does a bad thing.

John Watson rolled over, sighed contentedly then sat up with a start. What time was it??? It seemed late. Glancing at the clock, he realized he had ten minutes to get to work. "Fuck me!" 

His husband wasn't in bed with him but he vaguely remembered Sherlock talking about an experiment that would solve a major cold case. The bathroom was empty of large, gorgeous husbands as was the kitchen. Not surprisingly, he found Sherlock on the sofa, curled up into a ball, sound asleep. Throwing a blanket over his consulting detective, he ran back to the kitchen. 

Grabbing the cup of tea sitting by the microscope, he chugged it and a couple of paracetamol down as he ran back to the bedroom to throw on clothes. All of this insanity takes longer to type than it does to actually do and our doctor was out the door and hailing a cab with moments to spare before he was late.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sherlock Holmes! I am on my way home from work already because I have an erection from hell that will not go away! Did you dose me with Viagra when I wasn't looking?"

"What? No I didn't dose you! Gees John! The places your mind goes! SH"

"Sherlock!!!! Why do I have an erection you could see from Mars? It won't go away?!?! I repeat, what did you do?"

"John, I did not do anything! I was working on my experiment when you went to bed. I feel asleep on the couch like I often do. One has to ask what you did as I'm the innocent party here! SH"

"I got out of bed, late. I looked in the bathroom and the kitchen for you before finally finding you on the sofa. I covered you up, chugged your cup of tea, took a couple of paracetamol, got dressed and ran out the door. I found a cab right away and made it to work, only fifteen minutes late! I was congratulating myself when the erection from hell showed up! I repeat, what did you do?!"

"John, we're out of paracetamol. What did you take? And how many? SH"

"Seriously??? I grabbed the bottle on the kitchen table."

"John! Who is the idiot now?! You just pick up random bottles and take whatever is inside??? You don't believe in reading the labels? That WAS Viagra! It's for the case I'm working on! You know, the one you called, "The Case of the Wayward Erection" in jest. How many did you take??? SH"

"Oh."

"Oh?! Oh?!?! How many did you take? SH"

"Two, maybe three, maybe four. Hope you want to ride because this erection is getting to be painful and will get out of the cab ten seconds before the rest of me. I'm almost home, see you in a few minutes."

"I'm taking my pants off now and breaking out the lube. SH"

"I just heard shrieking! Did you just get out of the cab and some poor soul saw your bulge??? SH"

"You're not funny. I'm pulling up right this second. Love you and this is your fault!"

"I'm bending over the arm of the couch waiting for you. Just take out the butt plug before you start pounding away. Love you. SH"


	22. I Have To Pee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have to pee. At the same time.
> 
> This is one of those weird moments of art imitating life. My spouse won this time Damn him.

“Move your head John, I have to get up.” Sherlock, reclining in bed with his husband sprawled over him, said.

John, not really awake, replied, “no.”

“John,” the detective squirmed, “you need to move. I really have to pee.”

“Comfortable.”

“John,” Sherlock added a hip thrust, “this erection isn’t just morning wood! I really have to pee! Get up.”

“No.”

“Ok, that’s it!” Sherlock shoved his spouse off of him and stood up. 

John, waking up quickly as he slid off the bed and landed on the floor, shouted, “Fuck! Now I have to pee!” He quickly grabbed his husband’s ankle to prevent movement.

Sherlock looked down at his spouse and said, “you’re out of your fucking mind!” He started walking, slowly, dragging his spouse along with him. “Don’t make me urinate on you!”

John, realizing he was losing this battle, let go of the slim ankle he was holding, gathered himself and body slammed his husband to the floor. “I knew it was inevitable that you’d try to pee on me! I just didn’t think it would be physical. Me first!” He jumped up and headed for the bathroom door.

Two long arms with gigantic hands reached for the cute little doctor and snagged him before he got to the door. “Oh no you don’t!” Sherlock picked his spouse up and slammed him into the pile of dirty laundry by the bathroom door. John went down with a “whomp” and the detective parked his ample arse on his husband’s back and began to tickle him. Between shrieks, Sherlock said, “I really have to pee!” Tickle tickle. “And you’d better not pee in the laundry.” More shrieks. “Are you going to behave?”

“Yes.” John was gasping and laughing. “I really need to pee as well. Hurry up.” He felt the weight on his back lift and leaped up. “Psych! I already have my dick in hand!” He shoved Sherlock out of the way and ran into the bathroom.

“Me too!” Our boys met in front of the bowl, cocks in hand. “You know, technically we could share. I mean, neither of us has to sit down.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” John took aim. “Fuck!!!”

“Oh now what?” Sherlock, aimed as well, asked.

“I’m too hard to pee!”

“Serves your competitive arse right!” Sherlock said severely.

“So why aren’t you peeing?” John asked suspiciously.

“I’m too hard to pee as well. Must have been that nude wrestling. Give me a minute.”

“Are we weird?” John Watson, naked, dick in hand, having wrestled his husband to a stand still and unable to urinate asked.

“Yeah but we look normal.” Sherlock sighed with relief as the water began to run.


	23. The Beautiful Hijacker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a few bad habits.

Of all the bad habits that Sherlock Holmes has, some are worse than others. Yes, there is the ever-present “body parts in the fridge” issue that ended when Sherlock finally got his very own mini-fridge. Yes, there is the total disregard for public mores and nudity (the little old ladies across the street LOVE Sherlock!) and the verbal abuse of those deemed to be of inferior intellect. There is the ever-present disregard for his own safety, of course. And let us not forget the experiments left all over the kitchen. But the one that has driven John to madness is the sabotaging of his personal property, specifically his mobile phone.

For instance:

Our good doctor was on his way to work one Monday morning. He was sitting in his seat on the tube, not really awake due to the late night case that had kept them out until all hours, when he heard his spouse say, "Come on John, get a leg over." John looked about quickly but didn't see said spouse and decided that he must have fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing. He quickly chugged more coffee, and felt a little more alert, when he heard it again. Looking around frantically, he didn't see his large, gorgeous spouse anywhere. Auditory hallucinations? Maybe he needed a vacation.

"I think your mobile is talking to you."

"Excuse me?" 

The young uni student motioned to John's pocket, "I think your pocket is talking to you."

Feeling mildly stupid, he fished out his mobile in time to hear, "Come on John, get a leg over." 

"My spouse personalized his text alert to be insanely annoying," he found himself trying to explain.

"Uh huh." The student didn't look particularly impressed and went back to reading.

"You arse!" he typed quickly. "I'm on the tube."

"Come on John, get a leg over!" John hurriedly adjusted the volume as more people stared at him. "I figured you were. Just wanted to say 'hi". SH"

"I hate you. People are staring at me like I'm some sort of deviant."

"You don't hate me! Just think how boring your life would be without me. And you are a deviant, but you're my deviant! SH"

"Leave my phone alone Sherlock!"

"Whatever do you mean John? SH"

"You're an arse!"

"You love this arse! And I love you! SH"

"Self control Sherlock! Try it sometime! Love you too!"

"I do have self control! Imagine what I'd do if I didn't! SH"

"You are evil and I'm at work. Behave and I'll see you later!" 

After the first such instance, John, understandably, became a little paranoid. However, as the weeks went by without his phone being further manhandled, he turned his thoughts to other things and he forgot the whole incident. Silly man.

John and Lestrade had planned to meet for beer and football at their favorite pub. It had been a nasty week for both parties and they were looking forward to relaxing and catching up. As often happened in such cases, the beer flowed easily, the conversation was comfortable and the game was close. John was certainly feeling no pain as he found himself in front of a urinal, surrounded by other equally intoxicated men, and had just fished himself out of his pants when he heard, "John Watson, my arse aches for your cock!"

Fortunately for John, this was his favorite pub and most of the regulars knew him. Still, in a crowded public bathroom filled with drunk men, do you really want your husband's deep voice moaning such things? Poor John turned ten shades of red and suddenly couldn't perform. Greg didn't help matters by leaning against the wall and laughing hysterically. One of the other lads said, "damn Watson! I've seen your husband! If you won't do him, I will!" Everyone laughed and smacked John on the back (consider for a minute though what he was doing, or trying to do?!). John definitely had something to say to his spouse when he got home!

All was quiet for several months and once again John got complacent. Although to be fair, Sherlock had kept him busy with cases, a lot of sex and a really stunning case of pneumonia. Which may help explain why John didn't check his mobile for foreign invaders before he went to a medical conference in Wales.

Things were quiet for almost a whole day (Sherlock had been unable to take his husband to the airport as he was on a top secret case for his brother) so John's phone hadn't gone off. He didn't think much of it, although he missed his spouse like crazy, because he knew why there was silence. Imagine our good doctor's surprise when at the end of the main session, a deep, distinctive male voice bellowed, "Oh John! I'm coming!" followed by moans and an obvious orgasm.

John, blushing furiously, hit the mute button on his phone but not before the woman sitting next to him saw the accompanying picture. Sherlock had played with the text alert before but this time he also included a photograph. A photograph of a gorgeous, naked, male body covered in come with the right hand still wrapped around his erection. John gulped and moved to turn his phone over when the middle aged woman next to him, whispered, "He's really hot! Do you think I can borrow him for an evening? Or two?"

"If he keeps this up, you can have him!" John whispered back.

"You might want to mute your phone until you can clean it of "husbands"! Mine used to leave sexy underwear and such things in my suitcase which was fine until the airline insisted on opening my bag one time. I don't think the agent knew what hit him!" She smiled then added, "they do it because they love us. They just show it in unique ways! The brilliant ones are always different.

Smiling, John stopped to text his spouse. "The woman sitting next to me thought you were cute. You'd better behave or I'll let her play with you." Smiling, he hit send, gathered his possessions, waved to his new friend and headed to the next session.


	24. Sherlock, What Did You Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes home to chaos, sort of.

"What did you do?" John Watson leaned against the kitchen doorway and waited for an answer.

Sherlock, bent over his microscope, looked up and said, "Home already, John? My the day went fast!"

"Uh huh. I repeat, what did you do?" The doctor subtly braced himself. Some of his spouse's loonier explanations had caused him to trip and fall flat. He was more prepared these days.

His gorgeous husband straightened up and said indignantly, "I don't know what you're talking about John! Why do you always suspect me of doing things!"

"Seriously? Because I know you!" John ventured further into the kitchen. "And lets see, the kitchen floor is clean, the windows are wide open and the walls have been scrubbed." Kissing his husband and groping the gorgeous arse, he moved to the kettle. "I repeat, what did you do?"

"I had this insane desire to clean the flat. Why is that so hard to believe? You complain when I don't clean and then you complain when I do!" The detective leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, a misunderstood martyr.

"OK, if that's the way you want to play it. Why are the windows open?" John took his tea, moved to the sitting room and his chair.

"Fresh air!" The detective followed his spouse and sat down across from him. "The flat was stuffy."

"Whatever. I'll find out you know."

"Find out what?" Sherlock looked offended.

~~~~~~~~~

The next day found John arriving home from work with a large bag of takeout. He climbed the seventeen steps and walked in the open door. And stood frozen.

The sitting room was clean as it had never been since they'd lived there. The furniture was cleared of debris and polished (polished?), the floor swept and mopped and a new carpet was arranged in front of the hearth. The windows were also wide open.

"Sherlock!" John edged tentatively into the flat. What the hell...

"John!" His consulting detective came up behind him. "Oh good! You brought dinner!"

Turning from the clean room, John said, "now I'm getting worried. Did you burn a hole in the carpet or something? Are you possessed?"

"John, I simply had a few spare moments and decided to clean. I'm thinking of ordering new furniture for the sitting room. What do you think?" Sherlock looked around the room curiously.

"New furniture? Have you turned into a fifties-era housewife? What the fuck gives?!?!" John had moved to the kitchen where he put the bag down on the table.

"Nothing John! Did you get the curry I like?" Sherlock was rooting through the bag.

"Of course! OK, I still don't believe this but I'll play along. What are you going to do next, turn into a Stepford Wife?" John took his dinner and pulled out a chair.

"Whatever do you mean, John?"  
~~~~~~~~  
"Greg! Do you have any cases for Sherlock?"

"Oh hey John. I gave him three yesterday. He solved them before I got back to the yard. Something wrong?"

"He's cleaning the flat! And ordering new furniture! I think he's possessed!"

"Did you ask him? You don't think he's high do you?"

"No, it's not that. He's not high. Just has energy. It's bizarre."

"Sorry John, I don't have an answer for you."

~~~~~~~~~  
John came home the next day with some trepidation about what he'd find. Mounting the steps, he took a deep breath and walked into the flat.

He found his spouse in their bedroom, cleaning out the closet. Clothes were laying all over the room in piles. John took a deep breath and waded in. Grabbing Sherlock's wrist, he said, "I love you more than anything in the world Sherlock but this isn't you. What gives?"

"Seriously?" Sherlock sat down on the foot of the bed and continued, "you have been after me to become medicated. I finally did. The pills have given me lots of energy and the ability to direct my energy better. I'm aware the energy part fades but I thought I'd take advantage of it while it lasts."

"Wow." John hugged his spouse. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I was afraid you'd laugh or like the medicated me better." Sherlock admitted.

"Oh baby!" John looked his spouse in the eye, "I love you no matter what!" He looked around the bedroom. "Although if we want to sleep in here tonight, you might need some help. What are we doing?"

"Organizing the closet!" Sherlock said happily. "It's like my sock index on a larger scale."

"Oh dear." John stood and held his arms out. "How can I help?"


	25. Its That Time Sherlock!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is bored

"Sherlock Holmes!" John Watson was standing in the doorway to their bedroom, filled with outrage at his spouse. "I know you're bored and there haven't been any decent cases lately but you are being a colossal dick! And not in a good way!"

Sherlock Holmes, naked, was laying across their bed. Arms thrown above his head, he stared moodily at the ceiling. "Bored. I think I'm too bored to even get an erection."

"I know and that really sucks for me. Just get dressed, I have an idea." John headed off to the sitting room. "I think you'll like it."

"Seriously." But the detective peeled himself off the bed and headed for the bathroom, slowly.

~~~~~~~~~~

"This sounds really kinky, John!" The detective was standing on the pavement outside 221B with said spouse. This wasn't odd or kinky although they were both dressed, no the real oddity was that the detective was blindfolded and wearing noise cancelling headphones.

John just smiled, pulled an earphone aside to say, "I love you!" and opened the door to the cab that had just stopped. Making sure the blindfold and earphones were secure, he seated his spouse in the back and handed the driver a scribbled note with the destination, a few instructions and a healthy tip. Kissing his husband lightly, he stepped back and waved as the vehicle pulled into traffic.

~~~~~~~~~

The cab drove our favorite consulting detective around London for over an hour. The random directions combined with the blindfold and headphones, made for one very disoriented Sherlock when the cab finally stopped. The driver helped him from the vehicle as he removed the headphones and blindfold.

Sherlock looked about with interest and waved to the driver, who waved back and drove off. Where exactly was he? His text alert sounded.

"So Mr. Sherlock Holmes! The game is afoot. You have 25 minutes to find yourself at the next marker. Remember, "the pot is hot!"

Our detective thought for a minute, sniffed deeply, smiled broadly and took off in a southerly direction.

~~~~~~~~~  
Twenty-three minutes and thirty seconds later, the consulting detective arrived at the clues destination. Leaning against the brick wall and breathing deeply, he looked at the vacant lot where the decapitated chef had been found. Not a bad case and they had eventually found the head.

His text alert sounded again: "Aren't you the clever one! But you're not done yet! Say it with me, "but detective inspector, my dick was no where near the Venus de Milo."

Laughing with delight and a rush of spousal affection, Sherlock thought about this clue for a moment. The obvious or the not so obvious? Voting for the later, he took off again, happier then he'd been in days.

~~~~~~~~

At the museum, staring at the statue that inspired, "The Armless Masturbator", Sherlock waited for the text. The case hadn't been that challenging but the "yuck" factor had been through the roof.

"Aren't you the clever one! Here's one from way back.... "Don't it make my blue eyes brown!"

Laughing in delight, the world's only consulting detective took off for the exit door. He couldn't wait to see what other gems his husband came up with!

To be continued...


	26. It's That Time Sherlock, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is hot on the trail!

Two Years Ago:

"What in the world is that smell?" John Watson and Sherlock Holmes had walked into the crime scene only to be met with an ungodly stench. John was ready to turn and walk back out before he did something undignified, like throw up.

Sherlock, of course, didn't even notice the disgust as he walked around a huge vat of something noxious. "So the victim's eyes are in here, you think?"

Lestrade, looking slightly green around the gills, nodded. "That's what the note said." 

Before Lestrade or Sherlock could say anything more, Anderson rose from the platform surrounding the vat. "Why is he here!" The nasal voice exclaimed. "We don't need him!"

"Anderson! Enough!" Lestrade bellowed.

Sherlock walked to the bottom of the platform and looked up at the forensics tech. "Anderson, you are about six seconds from falling into that vat of bovine feces and while it would entertain me to no end, it wouldn't help your brain cells or this case any!"

"You fucking psychopath!" Anderson moved his left foot, slipped in a puddle of God-knows what, flailed, shrieked and went head first into the vat.

Sherlock bent over, guffawing. John had come up behind him, witnessing the interplay. Looking at his laughing spouse, he pointed out, "Sherlock Holmes, you were wrong you know! It was ten seconds, not six."

Present day:

Sherlock found himself in the vacant lot where the warehouse had stood. He thought he could still detect a faint aroma of manure coupled with a chemical overlay. Even two years later, the image of Anderson trying to climb out of the vat was enough to make him laugh out loud.

His text alert sounded. "You're laughing aren't you? Well, it was pretty hilarious. Now, if you can control yourself, I believe you're looking at a vacant lot. And I bet "The Midget With The Muffin Tin" still hates you."

Sherlock bent over, hands on knees and laughed. God he loved his spouse! Rubbing his shins where said midget had kicked him, the detective stood, looked about, got his bearings and, whistling happily, continued to the next old crime site.

To be continued....


End file.
